


Lethal Combination

by LadyVegeets



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Cop AU, F/M, Vegebul, buddy cop, lethal weapon au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 00:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18304562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVegeets/pseuds/LadyVegeets
Summary: Police detective Bulma Briefs is about to come face-to-face with the most lethal weapon in West City... her new partner. [Lethal Weapon AU. Two-shot for now, maybe more to come].





	1. Chapter 1

****Bulma shut the door to her Captain’s office and took the seat opposite his desk.

“Welcome back, Briefs,” Piccolo greeted, regarding her with piercing eyes. “I trust you’re all healed up?”

“Yessir.” She gave him a wry smile, her fingers tugging on the cuff of her sleeve. “Ready to be back catching bad guys.”

He stared at her a moment longer, trying to weigh her words, before turning his gaze to a manilla folder on his desk. “Glad to hear it. Hasn’t been the same without my best detective. Something just landed in my lap I want you to look at.”

He handed over the folder. Bulma opened it and flipped through the papers as Piccolo summarized the report for her.

“Bank robbery. Third one in as many weeks. They’re hitting small branches, probably since there’s less security to worry about.”

She looked up at him over the documents. “Really, Cap? Local bank heists?” This was a case for a newbie, not a seasoned detective.

Piccolo’s expression didn’t change. “A worker was shot at the last one.”

She glanced back at the notes. “Huh. So they’re escalating their violence.”

“Exactly.”

“Still,” she shut the file. “This is rookie fodder.”

“Damn straight it is. I’m not dropping you in the deep end on your first day back. In case you forgot, you nearly died and lost a partner.”

Her throat went dry, knuckles turning white on the folder. “…Like I could forget.”

Piccolo sighed and looked away — the only indication he regretted his words. “You know what I mean. I’m not blaming you, Briefs. I’m just concerned.”

“Don’t be. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

“Speaking of that, I’ve got your new partner—”

“No,” she interrupted. “I’m done with those.”

“It doesn’t work that way and you know it. Besides, this one’s a transfer, it’s out of my hands. From narcotics. A Vegeta Saiyan. Apparently former special forces and here’s the pincher, on a psych probation, so maybe you’ll get lucky and he’ll off himself.”

“Jesus Christ, Captain. You have me on babysitting duty too?” she flung up her hands up in the air.

Piccolo shrugged. “Take it or leave it.”

Bulma slunk back in her seat and sulked. “Ugh. Remind me why I chose to come back.”

“Beats me. You still have medical leave you could be on.” He leaned forward, his voice taking on a kinder tone. “You sure you’re up for this, Bulma? You’ve got nothing to prove, you know.”

She tugged on her cuff and looked away. “Yeah. I need to do _something_ or I’m going to go crazy.”

He leaned back and smirked. “Sounds like you’ll be in good company then.”

* * *

~xox~

 

Bulma headed back to her desk. Her phone buzzed and she picked it up, seeing a message from her mom about dinner that night. She texted her confirmation and pocketed the phone. Her feet slowed when she saw an unfamiliar man leaning against her table with arms crossed and eyes narrowed. He was of average height, but built like a goddamn linebacker, his shirt barely containing the swell of his big arms and broad chest. He had dark sweeping hair above a widow’s peak and sharp unfriendly features. A police badge rested at his narrow waist.

“You lost?” she asked, dropping the folder on her desk.

Dark eyes slid to look her up and down, his mouth souring. “You Briefs?”

“Yeah. Who’s asking?”

“Detective Vegeta Saiyan. Your new partner.” He didn’t offer a hand to shake, and neither did she.

They both weighed the other in cold silence. It was obvious neither were thrilled by their new assignment. Bulma decided to be the bigger person and nodded at the folder. “That’s our case. Some small-time bank jobs.”

“You’re shittin’ me?” he scoffed.

She could sympathize. “I wish, but looks like we’re both being punished.”

“What the fuck did you do?”

“Got my last partner killed,” she deadpanned. To his credit, Vegeta didn’t balk. “You?”

He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Keep trying to die.”

Wow. The universe really did have a sick sense of humor to be partnering them up.

“Briefs, Saiyan!” Piccolo shouted from his office door. “Another bank robbery in progress. Get your asses over there, now!”

“Yessir!” Bulma shouted as she holstered her weapon and grabbed her keys. “I’m driving,” she announced.

Vegeta didn’t protest, following after.

* * *

~xox~

 

Nothing was said between them the entire car-ride. When they reached the address, the street had been blocked off by patrol cars, several officers training their weapons at the bank from behind their vehicles.

“What’s the situation?” Bulma demanded as she got out of her car. An officer offered them bullet-proof vests. She pulled one on. Vegeta didn’t.

“Bank robbery turned hostage situation,” the officer filled them in. “Someone tripped the silent alarm. We don’t know how many inside.”

“Anyone made contact, yet?”

“We’ve tried calling in but they haven’t answered. SWAT should be here any minute.”

“Listen, Saiyan, we need to—” Bulma cut herself off when she looked over her shoulder and found Vegeta gone. “What the… Where the hell did he go?”

The nearby officer raised a shaky hand to point towards the road. Bulma followed his finger and saw, to her horror, that Vegeta walked right up to to the bank and let himself inside.

“What the hell…” she swore. She looked back at the officer. “How far out did you say SWAT was?”

* * *

~xox~

 

Vegeta counted 4 ski-masked gunmen, three uniformed bank staff, and two customers. The moment he was noticed the gunmen started shouting and pointing weapons, mostly asking who the fuck he was and to get down on the ground.

He came to a stop in the middle of the bank, hands shoved casually in his pockets. “I’m here to negotiate.”

“We didn’t ask for no negotiator!” the nearest gunman shouted, storming over to point a shotgun in his face.

Vegeta narrowed his eyes. “Exactly. You morons haven’t asked for anything. Is this your first hostage situation?”

“What the fuck did he call us?” one of the gunmen asked.

“Listen pal, we ain’t no amateurs,” the nearest gunmen said, jabbing his shotgun threateningly. “Watch your mouth unless you wanna end up dead.”

“Ah yes, brilliant,” Vegeta mocked. “Shoot the negotiator. That won’t bring SWAT in here and blow you all away.”

The four gunmen exchanged uneasy glances, all of them deferring back to the one nearest Vegeta. Bingo. The leader.

“…We want a getaway vehicle,” said leader began.

Vegeta made a disapproving sound.

“…What?”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he drawled.

“The fuck not?”

“Because they’ll put a tracking device on the car, genius.” Vegeta stared the leader dead in the eyes. “Were you born this stupid or was it something you had to practice at?”

“Man, who the fuck is this guy?” another gunman shouted.

“Shut up, I’m handling this,” the leader snapped.

“Yeah, he’s handling this,” Vegeta repeated.

“SHUT. UP!” The barrel of the shotgun butted up to Vegeta’s temple. “Shut. The fuck. UP, or I’ll—“

“You’ll what?” Vegeta stepped forward, turning his head into the gun. “Shoot me? Go ahead.”

“The fuck?” The leader’s eyes widened.

Vegeta snatched the barrel of the weapon and held it to his brow, staring down it at the shooter. A dark unhinged smile spread across his face. “Do it. Isn’t that why you’re here? Isn’t that what you’ve been building up to all these weeks? You’re just dying to know what it feels like to take a man’s life, aren’t you? Do it. Squeeze the trigger. One little pull, that’s all it’ll take.”

“You’re crazy!” the leader stuttered, backing up, but Vegeta wouldn’t let him, advancing with him. The other gunmen were shouting: SHOOT! DON’T SHOOT! Hostages began to scream.

“What are you waiting for?” Vegeta goaded. “Shoot me. _Shoot me_. I’m right here. I’m RIGHT FUCKING HERE!”

The gunman took one more step back, and Vegeta came perfectly into line of sight of all four men. He sighed, disappointment burning the back of his tongue.

In one swift movement, he yanked the shotgun out of the leader’s hands and slammed the stock into his face. The leader’s nose crunched and he collapsed. Vegeta flung the shotgun across the room, knocking the next gunman’s weapon from his hands before anyone realized what had happened.. He pulled out his firearm (that the idiot hostage-takers hadn’t made him give up), and shot the two remaining robbers in quick succession.

SWAT burst into the bank screaming commands. Soon the place swarmed with law enforcement. The gunmen still alive were cuffed and hauled off, while the terrified hostages were safely escorted out. Vegeta holstered his weapon and met the hard steel gaze of his new partner. The blue-haired detective was giving him _the look_. The _you’re fucking crazy and a danger to everyone around you_ look. He headed for the exit.

“What the fuck was that?” she demanded, grabbing his arm.

He glanced at her hand then at her. “Getting the job done. You got a problem with that?”

“You bet I do. Do you have any idea how NOT by the book what you did just was? We’re supposed to be partners,” she snapped. “We’re supposed to have each other’s backs.”

“Like you had your last partner’s?”

Her face went pale. Then her eyes burned with blue fire and she punched him. Hard.

The girl had a mean right hook.

He cupped his cheek and stretched his jaw to fight off the sting as she stormed out of the bank. He waited a few seconds, ignoring the judging glares of the other officers before he slowly followed in her tracks.

 

* * *

~xoXox~

 

 **AN:** based on _Lethal Weapon_ and _DragonBall_. What can I say, I love 80s action movies, and I saw there was a TV remake series and got excited.

 


	2. Chapter 2

****-02-

 

Bulma let her partner find his own damn way back to the precinct. She was in no hurry to work with him further. Besides, he had fired his weapon and shot somebody. Some _bodies_. He would need to fill out a hell of a lot of paperwork as well as receive a psych eval. If she was lucky he wouldn’t pass it and her partnership with detective Vegeta Saiyan would be a tiny blip on her record, never to be thought of again.

Good riddance.

She finished her own paperwork, purposefully ignoring Vegeta when he slunk into the precinct after hitching a ride from another officer. Unfortunately being her partner, he was set up with a desk perpendicular to hers, but they both did a good job of ignoring each other, putting up an invisible icy wall. She waited about an hour for him to apologize, and when he didn’t she decided she didn’t even want to hear one. As far as she was concerned, Vegeta was dead to her, an hourglass over his head counting down the seconds to his forced expulsion.

“Briefs, Saiyan! My office, now!”

Bulma looked up the same moment Vegeta did. Their eyes met, then they grimaced and looked away, standing to meet the captain.

“Would either of you care to explain what the hell happened today?” Piccolo demanded once Bulma had settled into one of the chairs opposite his desk. Vegeta didn’t take the other seat, opting instead to lean against the far wall with arms crossed over his broad chest.

Neither of them said a word.

Piccolo raised a brow. “Well? Briefs?”

“Don’t look at me, Cap. I’m not the one who thinks he’s a one-man army who doesn’t have to follow protocol.”

Piccolo looked to Vegeta. “Care to explain, Saiyan?”

Vegeta shrugged one shoulder. “What she said.”

“Jesus. You two haven’t been under my command for more than a few hours and already you’re in trouble.”

“Me?!” Bulma spluttered, indignant. “What did I do?”

“I put him under _your_ watch. As partners, you’re responsible for each other,” Piccolo reminded. “And what’s this I hear about you taking a swing at him?” Bulma blushed bright red and looked down at her shoes. “Jesus, Briefs, do I have to write you up on your first day back—”

“That’s not how I remember it.”

Bulma and Piccolo looked up to where Vegeta was. His face was inscrutable. Bulma had seen statues with more expression than he had.

Piccolo narrowed his eyes. “You’re saying Briefs _didn’t_ hit you?”

“Do you see me filing a complaint?”

Bulma tried to keep the surprise off her face. Why was he covering for her?

“Is that the way of it, Briefs?” Piccolo asked. His tone made it clear: he wasn’t buying it.

Bulma and Vegeta locked eyes, but his gave nothing away. Did she dare take his out?

“…What he said,” she finally agreed.

“Well well, look at you two getting your stories straight,” Piccolo drawled with heavy sarcasm. “Listen, I don’t know _and I don’t care_ what’s going on here, but I need you both to get your acts together. That means working as a _cohesive_ team. I don’t want to hear bo-fucking-peep about either of you unless it’s in regards to breaking a case. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Crystal,” Vegeta grumbled.

“Good. Now get out of my sight. We’ve got a dead kid on the beach I want you two working on.” Piccolo looked up at Vegeta with hard eyes. “You catch that, Saiyan? Dead. No one for you to shoot at this time.”

“Not yet.” Vegeta pushed off from the wall and walked out.

Bulma hurried after, avoiding the captain’s judgmental eyes. She waited until she and Vegeta were back at their desks before calling him out. “Hey.”

He didn’t acknowledge her, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair.

She grabbed his arm. It was like steel. Christ, just how much did this guy work out? “I said hey.”

“I heard.”

“Well it’s polite to acknowledge someone when they’re talking to you.”

He turned sharply, nearly butting heads to lean in and glower at her with the full weight of his irritation. She had to give him credit, he was intimidating. The guy definitely had his interrogation face down. “You are acknowledged,” he snarked, his words purring over her like the icy touch of Death. Her skin broke out into goose-bumps.

But she refused to back down. Drawing herself up to her full height, she met his glare with her own. “Why did you cover for me back there?”

“Tch.” He pulled away, suddenly bored, and finished shrugging on his jacket.

“Hey, I’m serious.” She wouldn’t let him pull away, circling to stay in his line of sight.

“Fuck, you’re persistent.”

“Part of the job.” She jabbed his chest with a impertinent index finger. “C’mon, spill it. I know you don’t like me, so why stick your neck out like that?”

He grimaced. “Because I am no snitch.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

She narrowed her eyes, trying to read between his lines. What was his deal? He clearly gave no fucks about making friends or even staying alive, yet he wanted her to believe he had some kind of honor system? The man was a walking juxtaposition.

“Is this your round-about way of saying you’ve got my back?” she asked.

“Isn’t there a dead body we’re supposed to be looking at?” he looked away, trying to change the subject. Bulma felt her first flicker of victory. Was that a crack in his armor she saw? Maybe he wasn’t so unsalvageable after all. Picking up the keys, she dangled them from her fingers. “I’m driving.”

“Fine by me.” He walked passed her on the way to the parking lot. Bulma hitched a brow and followed after. A male cop that didn’t insist on driving. Well, at least he had _one_ redeemable quality.

* * *

~xox~

 

Bulma and Vegeta strode through the sand to the area cordoned off by the police, pushing through the crowd of surfers and beachgoers trying to get a look at the dead body. A tall officer with permanent bed-head was jotting down notes in a pad. He looked up and gave Bulma the biggest grin and wave. “Bulma, you’re back!”

She gave him a smile on approach. It was hard not to around the big goof. “In the flesh. How’s Chi-Chi?”

“Huge!” officer Goku gushed with evident joy, as if his birthday, Christmas, and vacation had all come at once. “She’s due any day now.”

“That’s amazing!” Bulma saw Goku glance at her dark shadow. “Oh uh, Goku Son, this is detective Vegeta Saiyan, my new partner.”

“Partner?” Goku repeated, a worried look crossing his face before he could think to mask it. It was one reason he’d never made it as detective. He was a terrible liar. Goku shook off his shock and offered Vegeta a large paw and grin. “Hey, nice to meet you, buddy. You’re in good hands, Bulma’s the best on the force.”

Vegeta glanced down at the hand and then looked away, putting on a pair of shades. “Are we going to shoot the breeze all day or talk about the case?”

“Um, right…” Goku let his hand fall back and walked them over to the body. “DOA. No ID. Can’t be more than 18. A bit overdressed for the beach if you ask me,” he said, his expression morose as he looked down at the dead boy. Another reason Goku never tried for detective: his heart was just too big to handle the grittier cases.

“What does forensics say?” Bulma asked, crouching down by the body to get a better look. Goku was right, the deceased was young, and not dressed for the beach. Had he been dumped here or washed up on shore?

“She says it looks like he drowned.” A slender woman with a sharp blond bob-cut approached, latex gloves on her hands. “Sorry, I was just cataloging some evidence.”

“Lazuli, Vegeta. Vegeta, Lazuli,” Bulma made quick introductions. “She’s our forensics expert.”

The woman eyed Vegeta over with a disapproving glance. “Most people just call me 18.”

“Why?” he asked in a surprising show of sociableness.

“Do you actually care?” 18 inquired.

Vegeta’s expression didn’t change. “Nope.”

“Alright then.” 18 turned back to Bulma. “I’ll know more once I get the results back from the autopsy but with little else to go on, drowning seems most likely.”

“Accidental?” Goku asked.

“Probably not,” Bulma interjected as she pulled out a pen to lift up the dead boy’s bangs, getting a better look at his face. “Not too many people go swimming fully dressed. How long’s he been dead?”

“Hard to say if water’s been a factor, but at best estimate sometime between 10 and 2 last night.” 18 squatted down and started collecting more evidence. “I don’t know if I’m going to be much help on this one, Briefs. Drownings are notoriously hard to get anything concrete on, and the morning tide washed away anything useful.”

Bulma sighed, imprinting the dead boy’s face to memory before letting his bangs fall back. “What do you make of all this?” she asked, throwing a look over her shoulder to her partner.

Vegeta was staring down at the body with eery silence. There was a stiffness in his posture, even more than usual, and it hadn’t escaped her notice that he kept a small distance between himself and the victim. She couldn’t see his eyes from behind his shades, but his mouth was set grimly. “Stinks of foul play,” he finally growled and walked off.

“Your new partner seems, um…” Goku trailed off, failing to find something nice to say.

18 had no such reservations. “Like an asshole.”

Bulma watched Vegeta trek back to the parking lot, not sure what to make of him or his blunt attitude. “Yeah, seems that way… But at least he’s an honest one.”

An awkward silence fell over the three. Goku was the first to break it, clearing his throat. “Well I’ll uh, see if anyone’s filed a missing persons report that matches our vic.” He beat a quick retreat and 18 picked up her camera and started taking photos of the scene to avoid making eye contact with Bulma.

There wasn’t much point sticking around so she headed back to her car. Vegeta was already in the passenger’s side seat, chin in his hand, staring off into the distance across the beach. He didn’t look up as she got into the driver’s seat. It was hard to say for certain, having known him only a few hours, but she got the impression something was on his mind.

“No ID, no clues, no witnesses. It’s not looking good for the kid.”

“It was looking worse for him between the hours of 10 and 2 last night,” he replied dryly.

“Yeah.” She gave him a long side-eye, her fingers flexing on the steering wheel. On a hunch, she asked, “That wasn’t your first dead kid, was it?”

He didn’t react, staying quiet so long she wondered if he was going to ignore her entirely. “No.” The word felt unnervingly final.

She left it at that. What more could you say? In their line of work, you saw a lot of fucked up stuff. Turning on the engine, she put the car in drive and took them back towards the station. The wind whipped at Vegeta’s hair through the open window.

 

* * *

~xoXox~

 

 **AN:** I know next to nothing about forensics or police procedures other than what I’ve picked up from the briefest of google searches and police dramas, which I’m sure are ENTIRELY ACCURATE AND NOT EXAGGERATED AT ALL.


	3. Chapter 3

****Bulma’s phone rang in its hands-free device. Vegeta glanced over, SON GOKU illuminated on the screen. He looked back out the window as Bulma put the call on speaker.

“Hey Son, what’s up? You find something already?”

“Unfortunately. A missing person that matches our DOA. Ryan Smith, only 17. I’ll text you the address of next-of-kin. Sorry to put you on condolence duty first day back.”

“Don’t sweat it, just part of the job.”

“Well, speaking of which, it really is great to have you back in the saddle, Bulma.”

She mumbled a hasty thanks and hung up. A glance out of the corner of his eye found her tugging on her sleeve as she drove, scowling out the windshield.

A moment later her phone buzzed with Goku’s text.

“Can you get that?” Since there was no one else in the car, Vegeta assumed she was talking to him. He plucked out the phone from its holder and tried to access her messages. On the lock-screen was a very fancy-looking custom-made motorbike, over which hovered a pin-pad.

“It’s passcode protected.”

“314-159”

He hoped for her sake that it was a throw-away passcode. What kind of idiot gave out their private information so readily? He pulled up her messages. There were a lot. Little Miss Popular. The second-most-recent message was from MOM saying _Okay, see you tonight, sweetie! Good luck!_ The most recent was from SON GOKU with details on the victim and an address. There was also a photo. A young man, slim, short dark hair and eyes.

His heart beat skyrocketed. His palms broke out in a sweat. Something dark ballooned in his chest, making it hard to breathe, threatening to swamp him with emotions he struggled to suppress.

“ _Hello_? Is there an address?!”

Bulma’s tone indicated that she’d needed to repeat herself. Vegeta got himself in check and read the address aloud.

“Punch it into the GPS, would you.”

He tilted his head to look at her firmly over the rim of his sunglasses. Bulma glanced his way, a delicate brow arching up.

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t know how to use a smartphone?”

“It’s not very _smart_ if I have to do it myself,” he snarked back.

“Oh my GOD. What rock have you been living under that you can’t operate a smartphone?”

“The kind where I don’t allow corporations access to all my personal information.”

“Wow. You’re one of _those_.”

“One of what?”

“Never mind, I think I know where that neighborhood is.” She changed lanes and headed them towards their new destination. Annoyed by the exchange, Vegeta shoved her phone back into its holder, needing to make a few attempts before it snapped into place. Bulma gave him a withering side-eye but wisely made no comment. 

* * *

~xox~

 

Several minutes (and a quick check on Maps) later, they pulled up to a modest residential house.

“Let me take lead,” she suggested as they approached the door. Bulma wasn’t ready to trust Vegeta’s people skills just yet. He took off his shades and said nothing. She hoped that meant he agreed.

She knocked on the door and barely a minute later a middle-aged woman who looked like she hadn’t slept in a week answered.

“Mrs. Smith?”

“Yes?”

“I’m detective Briefs and this is detective Saiyan—”

“Have you found Ryan?” the woman interrupted with desperation and reached for Bulma. Vegeta shifted instinctively, his hand going to his holster.

Bulma put herself between woman and partner before Vegeta shot the poor lady. “I think it’s best if we come inside.”

It was awful. It always was. There was never a nice way to relay the death of a loved one, especially a child to their parent. Mrs. Smith sobbed inconsolably for several minutes. There were already used tissues all over her coffee table. The poor thing had done little else but cry since her son had gone missing.

Bulma sat opposite the woman on her couch, patiently waiting out the tears and patting her hand when she could. Vegeta stood off in a corner of the living room, arms crossed, leaving the two women be.

When Mrs. Smith had calmed down enough to drink some water, Bulma began. “Mrs. Smith, I’m so terribly sorry to have to do this to you now, but I need to ask you some questions. Are you up for that?”

The woman nodded miserably, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

“When was the last time you heard from Ryan?”

“U-um… Yesterday morning,” Mrs Smith replied with fresh tears welling. “He went out to meet friends but never came home for dinner. He didn’t answer his phone when I called, and his friends said they hadn’t seen him either. I went to the police station right after that.”

“And you can’t think of any reason why he wouldn’t come home? Any problems or recent arguments?” Bulma inquired.

“No, nothing! He was a good boy.”

“Why aren’t you out looking for him?” Vegeta interjected. Bulma gave him a horrified look; it sounded far too much like an accusation for her liking. He ignored her, waiting pointedly for Mrs. Smith’s reply.

The woman’s eyes were huge as she looked at Vegeta. “The police _told_ me to wait here in case he came back, o-or tried to contact the house,” she told him earnestly, barely choking back tears. “But Nicky has been out searching all night and day.”

“Who’s Nicky?”

“Nicholas, my eldest.” Mrs. Smith pointed to a photo on the fireplace mantle. Vegeta moved over and picked it up. “That’s Ryan on the left and Nicky on the right,” Mrs Smith explained before she started sobbing again.

Vegeta stepped over to show Bulma the picture. It was definitely the boy from the beach. The elder brother — Nicky — had a protective arm thrown around.

“…They look very close,” she commented kindly.

Mrs. Smith nodded. “Ever since their father left, they’ve been inseparable.”

Bulma and Vegeta’s eyes met, sharing a mutual look. If the brothers were that close, maybe Nicky would be worth questioning.

“Your husband’s gone?” Vegeta asked without even attempting to soften his tone.

The woman nodded. “I haven’t heard from him in over a decade. Do you think he’s involved?”

Vegeta shrugged one shoulder. “Can’t rule it out. We’ll need his name and last known contact information. Where’s your son’s room?”

“Ryan’s? Um, down the hall, second door on the right.”

He left without another word. Bulma glared after him, making a mental note to chastise him about his bedside manner. She tried to smooth over her partner’s insensitivity by getting names, numbers, and addresses from Mrs. Smith that might help with their investigation.

Vegeta came back after a while, giving her a curt head-shake; he hadn’t found anything useful. Bulma finished up, leaving Mrs. Smith with the number for the station and her own cell. “Call me if you think of anything, no matter how silly. Often it’s the small details that lead to big break throughs in these cases.”

Mrs. Smith nodded and mumbled a wet thank you before she devolved back into tears. Bulma and Vegeta showed themselves out.

As she opened the door to the car, Bulma glared over the roof at Vegeta. “Is that how you always handle grieving victims?”

He threw her a withering look. “You got a problem with how I work?”

“I do if you’re always going to be hostile when it’s not necessary.”

“Tch. That wasn’t hostile, that was me being reassuring.” He opened his door and got into the car. Irritated, she got in after him.

“Bullshit. How is interrogating a grieving mother reassuring?”

Vegeta met her gaze. “Not everyone needs to be mollycoddled. People grieving don’t want to hear how _sorry_ you are. They want to know you’re going to tear everything apart to find their loved one’s murderer.”

Bulma’s mouth snapped shut, not having a witty come back to that. He kind of had a point. “Well, still… If _you_ wound up dead, wouldn’t you like to know that someone was treating your family with compassion?”

“Wouldn’t know,” Vegeta replied in a flat voice, turning to stare out his window. “Don’t have one.”

She stared at the back of his head for longer than was polite, struggling to think of something appropriate to say. But the moment grew too long, and then it felt awkward to say anything at all. Finally she turned on the ignition and pulled the car back onto the road. Bulma made a mental note to hug her parents extra hard at dinner that night.

* * *

~xoXox~

 

 **AN:** Anyone recognize Bulma’s passcode? In the words of TFS-Piccolo, “ _NEEEEERRD_!”


End file.
